Quicksilver
by HHHOOHHH
Summary: This is an Age of Ultron fic. Sorry for the uncreative title, but that just about sums up the story. This should be a three-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey guys. So I wrote this to be a short multi chapter story. I'm planning on three chapters. This chapter might have a couple Age of Ultron spoilers, but not many. The future chapters will have spoilers. I have to add that because the movie has been out for less than a week.**

 **This is a Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver story because I absolutely loved him (although Iron Man remained my favorite)! Read and review, please.**

One

Pietro Maximoff was seven and twelve minutes (and his twin sister Wanda was seven) when HYDRA officers marched through the doors of their home and took away their father. They spoke harshly, telling their mother to be glad that her husband was chosen to contribute to his country. The twins hadn't really understood why the angry men would take their father away during their birthday party.

At that time in their native country, Sokovia, HYDRA was an impending force. The base was under construction, only halfway finished on Pietro's seventh birthday, but he couldn't remember a time when it wasn't there.

Daily, the watchmen would circle the streets, knocking on doors and asking for volunteers to take part in Wolfgang von Strucker's experiments. Each day, the young boy would shy away, remembering when his father was taken away. The man had returned the next day, assuring his family that it was only like a new job. He would still be with them.

"You are not serving your country, you are serving nothing more than a highly equipped gang, some kind of mafia," the wife had spat. He only shook his head, turning away and sitting in the corner with his hands pressed to his forehead. He sat that way for hours, but the twins had no idea why he was so sad. Had the angry men hurt him?

Pietro was ten when he realized how different his father was from all those years back. He lost his loving looks, his tender words, and his hopeful gazes. It was all gone. He was as a machine, only coming home or meals and sleep, silent all the time. Pietro didn't know why. When he asked, his mother's eyes grew wide, and Wanda's became curious.

"Shut up, boy," was the response from his father. "Once you have seen what I have seen, you will not ask such questions." So Pietro was forced to draw his own conclusions. He decided that the bad people that his father was fighting had made him this way. But Wanda only stared at her father, as if she was searching for something deep inside and not finding it. She always was quiet, and her mother called her intuitive.

When Pietro was thirteen he decided to try running at school. He went out to the track, and asked the coach what he needed to do to run on the team. The man was thin and muscular, with hard eyes, but behind the hardness was humor. He laughed and told him that for such tiny, wiry little boys, you must prove yourself more.

"You are scrawny, little one, you look to be only ten," the coach scoffed, "So to make the team, you must beat Nicholai in a footrace. You think you can beat him?"

Nicholai was a short, built boy of sixteen, with eyes that danced and energy that radiated from him. He glowed with health and vibrancy. His parents were rich enough to feed him enough and could afford trainers and such. Pietro immediately disliked him.

The two boys lined up on the dirt track, eyeing each other. Nicholai was confident, Pietro was determined. The whistle blew, and the two sprinted off, the finish line within sight. It was no challenge – Nicholai was at the line in thirty seconds, his muscles rippling like a workhorse. Pietro didn't even keep running, just stood there and stared. The coach chuckled, and told the young boy to return when he was a little bit bigger. Pietro left spiteful of all the things he couldn't have.

When Pietro relayed the story to his sister, she asked if Nicholai was kind. The look in her eyes was dreamy, and he immediately set out to destroy her feelings for the boy. He was too old for her, and too rich. But Wanda kept on in her star-struck way, pining for the wealthy older boy while Pietro watched hopelessly.

When Pietro was fourteen, his mother sent him off to find work. He settled for a factory job, spending hours every day filling boxes with dynamite and arms, and loading it into trucks to be shipped off to HYDRA bases. During this time, Wanda continued to go to school, and ended up catching the eye of Nicholai. When she brought him home for dinner, Pietro only glared at him the entire evening, while their mother rejoiced at his wealthy parents and potential. Wanda continued to see Nicholai, and Pietro continued to hate him.

When Pietro was fifteen, he noticed muscles that hadn't been there. His thighs bulged when he walked, and his arms had defined lines and his chest was sculpted. All that factory work had brought him physical strength, and he realized how much he enjoyed the newfound power of his body. He then began to run laps around the city during his breaks, and put more effort into his job. Soon, he was running faster than he ever saw Nicholai run. It brought him satisfaction.

It was a late Sunday evening when Pietro returned home from the factory and heard something that made him want to murder.

Nicholai was shoving his sister onto the bed, calling her a bitch and forcefully groping her. The slurring in his voice made it clear that the man was drunk. In an instant, Pietro had slammed the door to Wanda's room against the opposite wall, storming in with rage consuming him.

The man looked unashamed and confused when Pietro intervened, his bloodshot eyes looking up innocently. Wanda was cowering in the corner, holding her legs up to her chest and breathing heavily.

Pietro had called Nicholai every profane insult in his vocabulary, shoving him down and screaming in his face. Never had he released his emotions like this.

Nicholai continued to feign cluelessness, but fought back against Pietro's attacks. Wanda watched the ordeal with concern for her brother, trying to calm him by placing a soft hand on his back. He only shrugged it off, standing over Nicholai as he stood up from his fallen position against the wall.

As soon as he was up, Pietro punched him back down, until Nicholai no longer tried to get up. The raging boy grabbed him again, and dragged him through the small hallway to the front door. In a moment, Nicholai was lying on the porch, collecting himself.

Pietro threatened him then, warning the man to stay away from his sister, his eyes portraying that his fierce resolution wasn't a bluff. In that moment, all three people realized that Pietro was no longer the little thirteen-year-old who couldn't win the race.

When Pietro was seventeen, a neighboring country decided to attack Sokovia for its land and abundance of natural resources. The bombings lasted for a week. The entire city was shaken and crumbling, and certain sections were completely wiped out. As long as Sokovia's military continued to fight, the bombings rained down on the city.

The twins were sitting at the dinner table with their tired and greying parents when the house was hit. The bombs dropped straight through the ceiling, sending concrete and plaster everywhere. The first bomb hit Pietro's mother and father, who hadn't been quick enough to find cover. Wanda grabbed Pietro's sleeve, pulling him under the bed with her. The two breathed heavily, neither of them registering the events of the last few minutes.

Then a bomb rolled straight in front of them, only a couple feet away from their eyes. It sat there, and the twins couldn't move. They waited for hours, then for days, but the bomb never exploded. They did remember the name in bold letters on the side of the bomb – Stark. He would always remember that name.

It was then, with no place to go and no family, that Pietro and Wanda went to HYDRA's facility at the edge of the city. They offered themselves as test subjects for Wolfgang von Strucker's experiments, the ones they had been hearing about for years. They asked how it worked.

The man explained that it was similar to the old super soldier serum, but no one had ever replicated that formula. He said it was a specific drug. They find your best qualities, and give the drug in a certain way that enhances the abilities you already have. Pietro told them that he was a fast runner, and he had impressive reflexes. Wanda didn't know what to tell the man.

"Her mother has called her intuitive, and she has great strength of mind," Pietro offered, pulling his sister close to him. She melted into his side. The man said that he could work with that. And he did.

Pietro couldn't remember the process. He only remembered throwing open a door and outrunning time itself. He remembered seeing the world in slow motion. He remembered watching a drop of rain fall from the sky, wondering if the serum had warped his sense of time or just enhanced his entire body's speed. He remembered trying to stop, trying to turn off the strange powers.

After a few days of nonstop training from an expert in field of genetic mutation and enhancement, Pietro learned to mentally switch from his normal abilities to his super ones. He learned that it was a mental switch, more so than physical.

He also familiarized himself with Wanda's powers. They were different, confusing, but he learned them inside and out, as she did for him.

They held onto each other, every part of each other, as their only hope. Their lifelines were each other. And they refused to let go.

When Pietro was eighteen, he begged to be sent on a mission, to send the destructive Americans and their allies to hell. He had grown up hating the rich, supposedly righteous countries that held him in bondage. He had always been told that they were the enemy, that they were satan's ambassadors. The country of Sokovia and all its inhabitants believed what HYDRA told them.

Despite his efforts, devotion, and passion, Pietro was held inside the base, along with his sister. They were not ready, the officers said. Their time would come. But they couldn't wait forever.

When Pietro was twenty two, after being kept in HYDRA's base for nearly six years, he decided that he was done waiting. His opportunity came through the Avengers.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: The first chapter outlines Pietro's past. This chapter outlines him and the Avengers, and how he felt about becoming part of the team. The next chapter (and the last chapter) should be up soon. I will finally have a completed story! Please review, I really appreciate feedback.**

Two

It was easy to fight against the Avengers. The battles themselves were challenging, yes, but the proper mentality was easy to achieve. Pietro hated them, hated their work. So he could fight them.

It was when he started to second guess both Ultron and himself that it became harder. Flipping through TV channels, he came across one playing old newscasts about the Avengers and the individual members. It showed Stark flying into a wormhole with a nuclear bomb, unsure of returning. It showed Barton guiding innocent children to safety during a battle. It showed Rogers fighting on to protect civilians being held hostage, even with a bullet in his side. It showed each member he had thought was so evil, doing pure good. It made him think.

When he finally saw the truth, with Wanda's help, he made he split second decision. He had already been thinking about giving the Avengers a chance, but now Pietro knew which side was right. That was when it became difficult.

To switch sides after a lifetime of hate was probably the hardest thing he had ever done. To fight alongside Stark after seeing that name on a bomb that had threatened his survival was painful. It was painful to admit that Stark wasn't the bad guy. It was hard to fight alongside Rogers, after fighting against him for so long. It was hard to think that they had been so wrong. Thankfully the team had accepted the twins' help, even if they weren't overly cordial.

Pietro found the people getting to him… in a way he wasn't sure was good or bad. Wanda had told him about what she had seen inside each of their heads. She said it was tragic what they had been through, separately and together as a team. Pietro found himself able to read them, finally. When Banner had a poorly hidden moment of self-hatred, the man felt sorry. When Rogers had a moment of loneliness, thinking of the things of the past that should have been his present, Pietro felt a surge of sympathy. When Romanoff looked at something and her eyes clouded, he knew that the object had triggered a memory of her life in Russia. He found himself wishing she didn't have that pain. When Stark sat alone in his lab, a bottle of Scotch in had as he stared at the amazing technology that he had created with his brain and a few wrenches, Pietro saw sadness in his expression, not pride. He knew that feeling well. Thinking of everything you've done, remembering how right you thought you were, then when the dust settled, looking back at your past and seeing a shipwreck.

It was Barton, though, that intrigued Pietro the most. The man wasn't Thor, he didn't have lightning and thunder. He wasn't Rogers, with a super soldier serum coursing through his veins. He didn't have a giant green beast waiting to emerge, or a suit of armor that could withstand almost anything. He had a bow and a quiver of arrows. And yet, there he was, fighting alongside the best of the best. There was something about that, Pietro wasn't positive what, that earned his respect.

He still teased the archer with his superior speed and reflexes, but he was impressed with the way the man held his own. Especially after discovering that Barton was wasn't limited to bows and arrows, but was also a deadly assassin. The man wasn't weak, that was certain. But Pietro wouldn't tell him that – he preferred his witty one liners that left Barton grumbling about "young kids without respect for their elders". Pietro would just grin, "You didn't see that coming?"

The team was temporary – Pietro knew that. But he couldn't help getting attached. He didn't know it before he met the Avengers, but he really did love people. He didn't realize how social he could be. Although the "socializing" was discussing improperly programmed AIs and global threats, he enjoyed the company. When he thought about it, there was no way he could have discovered that about himself in that HYDRA base. After a few days around the Avengers, he didn't ever want to be alone.

Pietro couldn't help his curiosity. He wanted to know each Avenger personally. He would linger with them, trying to figure them out. He knew it wasn't only that he liked them. It was because he wasn't really used to people and wanted to see how they worked with each other outside of a damned HYDRA facility. It was new for him.

Wanda was just as interested, but she had the means to make her own discoveries.

"The Asgardian… He grieves. He is one of the only Avengers who understand what is happening in the earth. He fears ignorance," Wanda informed him. "Stark is remorseful and he fears the other worlds beyond earth. He faces anxiety attacks. Rogers is still trying to accept a world that is seventy years too new. He fears what technology and science have done to the world. Romanoff is struggling with her ledger. She feels that she was too bad to ever be good. She fears never redeeming herself. Banner fears the damage that could be done by his other form. He fears the consequences of losing control. Barton fears death, because he has a family who needs him alive."

So the twins knew their fears. Wanda was satisfied, believing that from a person's fears, you could see the true heart of the person. Pietro, however, believed that the true heart was in their strength. But working with them in battle, it was easy to find their strengths.

Stark was extremely resourceful, using his engineer's brain during their battles. Thor was courageous, and never gave up. Rogers was an excellent leader, and he and Stark together formulated nearly flawless strategies. Banner was indestructible. Romanoff was agile, controlled, and deadly. Barton was quick on his feet and always alert, warning people of threats before they themselves ever saw the danger coming. Vision, though confusing, was a valuable asset. These people weren't so bad.

Although Pietro didn't really interact with Thor, he was fascinated by the hammer Mjolnir. He wouldn't admit to it, but he had once tried to pick it up when it was sitting unattended in the lab. The thing wouldn't budge.

A chuckle sounded behind him, and he turned to see Hawkeye, wielding his seemingly ever-present bow and arrows. Preparing himself to defend an onslaught of insults (some joking, some genuine), Pietro eyed the archer.

"Stark thought it had to do with some physics law that only he and Banner understood," Barton mused, setting down his weaponry. "He tried every law of physics around and nothing worked. Hulk can't even lift that thing. The good ol' Cap, he moved it. I think the only reason he didn't lift it right up is because he swore too much during the last battle. It chipped his worthiness."

"So it is about who is worthy?" Pietro asked, "That is something else." Barton chuckled at Pietro's use of the common English term.

"When you say that you sound absolutely like a nerd," the archer informed the speedster, "I'd stick to your Sokovian phrases and what not."

And at that moment, Pietro counted Hawkeye as a friend. He only hoped that the archer – and the other Avengers for that matter – would do the same for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: The final chapter. This is my first completed story! Please review! Also, I am actually open to requests for one-shots (or stories like this one, with a couple chapters), if anyone wants one. If not, I'll just try to come up with my own ideas…**

 **Thank you everyone**

Three

The battle was so bloody. It was something else about this new life that Pietro wasn't used to. Sure, he had seen the movies, and the occasional wounded soldier around base. But he wasn't any more accustomed to battlefield gore than an average civilian.

Pietro handled it well. Although he was unused to it, he found himself able to almost ignore it. He saw that Wanda wasn't handling the situation as easily, and started to go boost her morale with brotherly encouragement. Before he approached her, he saw that Hawkeye was already talking with her. While his sister who possessed an unfathomable power, leaned on Barton who was just a highly skilled agent for emotional support, Pietro found even more respect for the man building. He wanted to be like Hawkeye in attitude and composure, of not every area.

So Quicksilver continued to fight, until he saw Wanda rejoin the battle with Barton, looking refreshed and determined. He dropped by, seeing an opportunity to tease his favorite archer. In the area of speed and agility, Pietro happened to have Barton beaten, and he milked that fact incessantly. When he left again, he could faintly hear Hawkeye's (hopefully) good-natured grumbling.

He convinced Wanda to stay near him – she was strong and powerful, but inside she was soft. He could tell from her quick agreement to remain with him that she wanted to be near him.

Although instinct bade him to protect his sister alone, he darted everywhere, deflecting bullets and stopping enemies that threatened any of the Avengers. He sustained a few injuries, but outran most of them. He felt amazing, like he had finally found what he was meant to do. Saving people felt so good, especially when he had the specific ability to do so. One grateful look from a terrified mother of twins (a boy and a girl, reminding Pietro of him and his sister) was enough motivation to carry him through hours of fighting.

The battle dragged on, and the coms between the Avengers were filled with cries for backup and battle plans. Pietro remained silent, listening and making himself totally aware of what his new teammates were each handling at all times. He knew Stark and Thor were arranging something between them that only they themselves could accomplish, while everyone else fought the robots and ushered civilians to safety.

In making constant rounds around the city, Pietro found people buried under rubble in abandoned alleyways, children alone and afraid in buildings, and desperate elderly couples hemmed in by fire and enemies. He dug out animals, took out some robots, and looked at his good work for a brief second.

This was being a hero.

He reverenced the feeling, but shook it off. The battle was not yet over. Nagging at his brain was the thought that the battle was stretching out far too long. Pietro shoved it aside, valiantly throwing himself into the battle, but he wanted it all to end. He wanted it so badly.

As much as he hated to admit it, his body wasn't tireless. While Pietro was incredibly energized, fast, and durable, he was only human. He had been shot once, thrown around by robots, and used the muscles that had been asleep for too long in the oppressive HYDRA base. While the motions came back to him, it was still foreign. He was growing weary. The powers he possessed were still in motion; his body's idea of 'tired' was another's idea of 'energized'. But he couldn't deny the physical difference he felt.

He stopped to look around. The battle seemed over. In the com, he could hear that everyone's concern was relocating the citizens. The robots were practically annihilated, and all of the Avengers were either occupied with safely (or less dangerously than Ultron planned) lowering the city, or herding civilians onto aircraft. Standing amid the wreckage, the scene before him almost serene, Pietro felt a premature sense of relief.

In only a second, he knew why the feeling had been off. A helicopter of some sort was flying through the air, piloted by a not-quite defeated Ultron. The crazed AI was firing a storm of bullets towards the ground. Pietro immediately saw his target. Barton was helping a tiny boy out of a pile of debris. He saw that the archer was aware of the approaching helicopter by the way he pulled the boy underneath his own body to protect the young life.

In one second, Pietro's mind was running as fast as his body. Hawkeye was about to die for that boy. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that wonderful man, who had a wife probably crying for her husband, and children probably wondering where their daddy was, die. He couldn't let himself, a man without a rivaling reason to continue living, watch Barton lose his life.

He respected Barton. He wanted to be like Barton. He would die for Barton.

All of those thoughts shot through his mind, but he saw each one clearer than day. In a second, he bolted towards Barton without giving himself a chance to do anything else. Although in his heart Pietro knew that nothing could tear him away from what he was about to do, his mind feared that instinct would intrude and carry him away to safety.

The spray of bullets reached Barton's curled up body at the same time Pietro did. The first one pierced his skin, and he couldn't believe the pain of the following onslaught. Each tiny metal jacket broke him, his skin, his body. He could feel every hole, every drop of blood that was saving the life of the man beneath him. He could feel every nerve that was screaming in protest.

When the endless firing stopped, Pietro stood, shocked. His eyes glazed over slightly, but he saw when Barton turned around. He could see the look of horror, and the unmasked sadness. He only forced the tiniest smile. He had done it. And he didn't have a single regret.

"You didn't see that coming."

Then, Pietro Maximoff saw nothing but darkness, and just barely felt his limp body hit the ground before it all became empty.


End file.
